You want a lillium so bad,

Yet you cling to your snowdrops.

A fight of the mind, teeth and blood

Tend to your sword lilies, for more is to come

In a nutshell, Fotovolides was two seconds away from screaming. 

She was falling. And please, don't be concerned. This wasn’t new nor was it bad. Well, it would be bad if she hit the floor, she guessed. She didn’t really care anymore. You know, there's always a moment when you fall, where the world just stops. You're held by the universe and simply stop existing entirely. You could stay in that moment, not exist for a long little while, but that comes with a price of no longer existing permanently. Or, you could turn, strip out of calm and non-existence and exist again, spread your wings and flee. 

Fotovolides didn’t remember much of her kind. She was so young when she was taken. But there were a couple things she remembered. She remembered the canyons she grew up in. Remembered…. Jumping from satellite to satellite, learning to fly. Remembered cuddling up to her papa and mama, curled up in a large nest together, remembered her first shift, cooking, hunting and weaving, playing ‘tribes’ with the other hatchlings. Remembered the time everyone learned she was blessed with the blood of Sol. 

“PAPA!!!! MAMA!!!” Fotovolides screamed, clawing blunt claws into the arms of the werewolf that dragged her away, away from her family!!! Take her back! Take her back-!

She remembered being taken. 

The howling of the wind was what brought her back. And Fotovolides wondered if it would matter if she didn’t pull herself from the non-existence. What if….. She just continued to fall, and fall, and fall, and then not. Would it really matter? Tartarus in many areas, didn’t have a roof. It was a dark abyss above, and Fotovolides was staring right into it as she fell. Her wings curled around her, limp from when she had fallen unconscious from the increased pressure of flying up. 

Up was the only way out. And Fotovolides wanted out. But really- what was the point??? If she got out, he would find her, and then….. She wouldn’t be. So what was the point….?

“You have a very special gift, Flare,” Mama murmured as she brushed Fotovolides’s hair. The 5 year old was squirming in her lap, huffing and whining about having to sit still, and that she was having her hair brushed. But once her mama stopped and spoke, Fotovolides perked. “ ’weally?” chirped the young Fire-Scale Dragon, beaming small blunt teeth. 

“Yes. Golden blood, it’s a blessing little ember. There are stories that those with the blessing of Sol, were related to the god themselves.” Mama exclaimed softly, smiling back at her daughter. “I’m so proud of you Fotovolides. I just know, you're going to do amazing things in the future. Never give up. The winds are under your wings, so take control.”

Fotovolides's wings snapped open, launching her into a dizzying spiral that gave her a view of the ground nearing. Not today. I’m not giving up. Not yet. The ground was nearly as black as the sky, speckles of dark brown, and occasionally there were twinning snakes of magma rivers, illuminating the area. I'm not dying yet. Closer and closer and closer, and Fotovolides snapped open her wings at the last second, practically throwing herself across the area, squinting to not get dirt in her eyes. 

And then she did. 

Fotovolides made a shrill roar of pain, immediately ducking into a tumble roll. She hissed as she came to a stop, sulking at her pained eye and dully throbbing scales. Her dragon form was a lot more resilient than her mundane form, but things still hurt. She writhed on the floor for a couple minutes, cursing her damnation of pain and misery, before sulking, dragging herself away. She was rather quick to discover that dirt doesn’t come out of said eyes even if you blink a LOT, and with concern of being attacked Fotovolides seeked out the nearest bath of magma and tossed herself in it. 

Fire never hurt her. Magma never hurt her. The sensation was like swimming through thick, watery honey, that burned with the sensation of laying under the sun bare-backed for long periods of time. She dunked her head under, feeling the dust and rocks and shit burn up and be whisked away.  She sighed in satisfaction, blowing magma bubbles as she floated along, beating her wings every so often to keep her floating. She rolled ever so often, humming, purring in a deep rumble that sent vibrations through the magma. 

She silently shifted through the liquid fire, mind wandering around to food, hunt, safety, nest- find prey, hunt prey, escape, escape, escape, Fotovolides dragged her head under the magma, shook those animalistic urges out of her head. She was so hungry, she wished for bark of any sort, she was honestly getting sick of charred meat.

Ironic. She always hated eating bark, her mama had to sit her down and force her to eat it before she could go play. Now she would kill to see a fucking tree. Surfacing, Fotovolides slapped a chuck of rock that floated too close to her snout, huffed, and dragged herself from the magma, shaking the molten honey drops from her body. Her stomach growled at her, and she growled back. “Shut up,” She hissed. Pork, growled back her stomach. With tree sap. 

Fotovolides sighed dramatically, dragging her metal talon down her face, before opening her wings and taking off once more. It took a couple wet flaps before she was airborne, trying not to breathe in the smoky fumes of the lifeless hellscape. She missed the clear air and endless skies, the soaring clouds and peaks of mountains that reached for the sky.

She missed the land. The trees and small furry critters and birds. Things she could pluck from the trees for snacks. She actually missed land fighting- beings and creatures up there fought with purpose, not wild crazed reckless hope for survival. She ducked and then soared up, beating her wings and pumping her legs like them moving in cantering motions may help move her higher. Up and up, the endless pit attempting to drag her down yet pull her, slow painful spikes in her mind as the pressure grew, like her brain was disconnecting as the world swirled, breathing becoming swallower. 

A bit more

A bit more.

A

Bit

More…..

The pressure grew to high, and Fotovolides's eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

And the Drakonic fell.